Crash
by narsoo
Summary: "..That's exactly what love's supposed to do to you.."/Prequel to "Spin circles for me."/Older Frisk x Sans/M FOR ADULT LANGUAGE, DRUG USE, AND SEXUAL NATURE./
1. Chapter 1

Ignorance is bliss. Or so they say. The following was true for Frisk. At least for Living with her adoptive mother, Toriel.  
Toriel was loving, and fulfilled her duties as a mother to a near-perfect standard. She lavished Frisk with all the love she could  
possibly conceive to any child of her own; and for a long time, things were quiet, in this close-knit small family.

The barrier was broken, they all lived in harmony. Of course, Toriel and Frisk both kept quite close ties with those they had  
embarked with on the journey to get there, but like anything, certain people drifted. Sans and Papyrus kept a close eye on Frisk  
growing up, visiting quite frequently. Home life was rather good for Frisk, she was home-schooled, she was well-educated  
and well-fed, brought up lovingly. All the right things in life. However, she didn't speak much.  
Not that she was totally mute, she just wore a pale, nonchalant expression more often than not, never really finding the  
opportunity to express emotion.

Toriel had attempted to ask her multiple times why this was, although never to any avail. She was met with a pair of empty brown  
eyes, staring right back at her. This was not a childhood phase, but rather something that remained and worsened as she grew into her  
adolescence. There was never any real indication that Toriel, or anyone as a matter of fact, could pinpoint the moment where  
Frisk's habits made a turn for the worse.  
Teenagers and alcohol, the two words never really seemed too different to each other, however...

Frisk gripped onto this habit for all emotional comfort. This was until all realised this was slightly more serious than simply teenage  
experimentation. It had been a boyfriend at the time, Toriel believed, that she had been with when she was found cold on the floor,  
various pharmaceuticals mixed into a concoction of brown, slimy liquid injected into her arm.

Needless to say, 17 and helpless, Frisk lay in a hospital bed for days. After the tears and comfort and hospital visits; Frisk's  
head frequently banged with tension headaches. She could never answer Toriel's questions about why she had turned to drugs  
on that particular night, and neither could she answer her own questions.

It was never for any suicidal purposes; despite the various different ways she was killing herself, destroying herself with  
alcohol and cigarettes, and in the process, Toriel. Emotionally, of course.  
Toriel, fraught with devastation, quickly sought counselling for Frisk.  
She became quieter than ever, withdrawn and lethargic. With sunken eyes, and frail, malnourished limbs.

That was when she truly got to know Sans.  
The hospital carried the sickening smell of cleaning products, the floors and walls white-washed with baby blue blankets stretched  
out on her bed.  
Sans stumbled into her room, he began the conversation as if they were meeting each other for the first time,  
 _"Got yourself into a bad one then, huh, kiddo?"_

 _They spent hours alone, simply talking, something Frisk seldom did. However, her lips emptied out messes of words,_  
 _in his presence at least._

Her lips curled lightly in retort to some cheesy joke he had made, in order to lighten the mood. She felt her hands  
caress her brown hair smoothly, as her dazed eyes glazed over him. It was the first time she had been seen smiling in a  
remarkable period of time.


	2. Chapter 2

The days after the ordeal passed without much notice being given to them. Days could be painstakingly rigid, and seem to  
ravage the bearer's already toiled emotions. In this case, Frisk and Toriel.  
The apartment block had an uneasy, unusual silence around it. Ever since Frisk had returned from the hospital, she simply stayed silent,  
more so than before. Toriel, eaten by her illusions of having been an unfit mother, not helping Frisk to her full potential, had taken its  
toll on her, too.

Regret ate away at Frisk's mind, chipping away the cold facade she wore. She would lay sometimes, empty-minded, and quietly  
peaceful on the outside, suppressing the emotional turmoil. Perturbed by the reveries she would experience in her time alone.  
It was no surprise that her smile was addictive, Sans' increasing visits to Toriel's house, and by addition, Frisks' proved this to be an  
undisputed truth.  
Visits were a surprise to Frisk, they lacked in frequency before-hand. The relationship between she and everyone else she once knew slipped  
dramatically as the years passed on, simply amended by the fleeting memories of the experiences they once shared, followed up by  
uneventful meetings on occasion to 'catch-up' and the like.

With a seemingly plastered smirk-ridden face, he'd often talk to Frisk. Whether she retorted with no sound, accompanied with a  
pause, he'd simply provoke many a conversation topic, much to her surprise. Toriel had grown close with Sans, and thus,  
was elated that he could even invoke the slightest of words out of Frisk. As a result, his daunting presence brewed a custom  
to her, and Toriel.

The first few visits were light conversation, he'd already been acquainted with the brooding spirit she seemed to carry, at least when sober,  
whether their last encounter was a breakthrough due to the Achille's heel of her morphine-pumped system, or simply the work of Sans'  
burning desire to provoke any sense of reaction from her, it worked. His words were almost slurred with the intensity mirroring his  
intentions, even from the beginning of their uncanny change in relationship.  
The first exchange of words, that is. Many visits were simply Sans' empty words flowing past her ears backwards, despite being  
motionless in themselves. He was inherently endearing to her, though, awakened by her adolescent years, she gripped onto the small  
but unwavering sense of attachment, amplified by his presence, and broken as soon as he left the room.

Dialogue was smooth and steady, an unbroken chain of conversation dominated by Sans, until he decided it appropriate to  
provoke conversation by the most desperate of means. He reminded her of their previous encounter, when she lay  
frail in the hospital bed. "Say, kid," He paused, as usual, her dark eyes bored into him deeply with the overwhelmingly  
blank expression that didn't budge from her face, and in addition, the limited movements she forced her limbs to restrain under.  
 _"You're a weird kid.. Don't eat, don't sleep... Pump yourself full of whatever shit you get your hands_ on..." She felt her heart laying  
heavily in her chest, her eyes widened. It was the first remarkable reaction she could bless with her energy, and yet, she could feel her  
feet begin to scramble beneath her, panic dwelling deep inside her at his sudden change of demeanour.  
Her eyes refrained from contact with his, her head almost immediately glaring to her feet, her hands fumbling with the tips of her hair.  
 _"You're reckless, but fuck kid..."_ His voice was heavy, vocals dripping with husky, daunting notes.

Her eyes snapped back up to his, as if summoned to do so. He sighed, his smile not falling, "Maybe that's what I like about ya'.."  
She could not summon the words to articulate her confusion, and on the same note, her intrigue. Her throat was dry, but proceeding  
another silence, her eyes glazed the floor, "Not what most people would consider an enjoyable factor but," she piped up,  
"You're a weird guy, I suppose, Sans." She retorted, almost mocking what he had said in regard to her earlier, in the corner of her  
lips lay a slight weak grin. He let out a soft chuckle, "That's a start.."


	3. Chapter 3

The day started out slow, the ice settled onto the pavement. The winter solstice filled the air with a sharp, piercing cold.  
Clouds crowded among the already impoverished grey dead sky. A small suitcase dragged across the icy ground, crackling  
with the friction between the concrete and plastic wheels. The choice had been spontaneous, maybe even ill-suited  
for Frisk, but after a few months had passed, Sans had convinced her to move in with him, and in addition, his little brother too.

The stairs leading up the apartment were a dull metallic grey, with a few grimy windows that looked as though they hadn't seen a  
trace of hot soapy water in years. The apartment itself was small, not very colourful, nothing out of the ordinary. A television  
set lay in the middle of the living room, with a small couch littered with a few pillows. Sans stood behind Frisk. She lead the  
way into the apartment, her first steps slow and unsteady. Besides the living room and the kitchen, there were two rooms.  
Papyrus peeped his head out from one of the rooms enthusiastically and bounded towards the two, "You two took your time!"  
he remarked, eyes peering down to Frisk's suitcase, "You.. really didn't pack a lot, huh?" Papyrus commented, and was given  
a small shrug in response from a nonchalant Frisk.

"Sorry, bro, hadda' say g'bye to Tori and stuff, y'know? That kinda thing.." He walked past Frisk, walking into the living room, thudding  
down onto the couch, Papyrus followed. Frisk walked and stood in the doorway to the living room, taking a small second look around the  
room. Papyrus swung his head to see her, "Oh! Frisk! Let me show you my room, it's amazing! You will love it! I am sure!" He almost  
lunged over to her, taking her hand and leading her into his room. She humoured Papyrus to the extent she found him quite sweet.  
His room was small, a few shelves here and there, and a bed designed as a race-car. She gave a soft smile at his innocence, as he bounded  
to and fro, excitedly explaining all the little trinkets and every nook and cranny of his room, then suddenly, he hugged her.  
She was surprised and jumped slightly at the abrupt touch, her body shook slightly although she soon calmed down, sighing.  
"I'm so happy that you're here, now I get to see you every day and not just every couple of months, Frisk!"  
She smiled, nodding her head in response.

The hum of street lights could be heard through the open window, as well as dusk settling in. She yawned, as they both made their way  
back into the living room. Sans glanced over at Frisk, with an unsteady expression on his face, "Uh, kid, your room ain't really..  
Made up yet y'know? Hope y'don't mind crashing on the couch or bunkin' with me or Papyrus," he said jokingly, much to  
Papyrus' excitement, he spoke up, "We could have a sleepover! Oh, yes! That's perfect!" He quickly jumped up to go to his room, as  
Sans and Frisk looked at each other. "Heh.. Bro's way excited to have you here, huh?" He spoke, the daylight in the room having dimmed,  
and his face being slightly lit up by the glare of the television. Frisk nodded, she supposed they would humour his desire for a sleepover,  
as much as she _would_ be sleeping on the couch, anyway.

Hours later, after becoming familiar to the apartment, Frisk walked into the living room to be met with Sans and Papyrus sitting together,  
Papyrus wearing orange pyjamas, with blankets covering both of them, he turned his head and spotted Frisk, "Frisk! We are going to watch  
a movie! It is mandatory that you prepare for this slumber party!" She nodded, "Silly me," she spoke up, turning out of the door immediately,  
giving a small smile to Papyrus. She walked into the room that was being prepared for her, white-wash walls, with no heat, despite a  
faulty radiator hanging off the wall. Her black suitcase lay in the midst of the blank room, she sunk down against the wall, her hands on  
her head as she sighed, taking a mental pause.  
She opened her suitcase, clothes, clothes, more clothes, adorned by several packs of cigarettes, some toiletries, various bottles of  
alcohol, those of which hidden under the pile of clothes she had brought.  
She lit up a cigarette and took a draw, inhaling deeply, almost extinguishing the lingering onset of a headache, emptying the  
contents of her mind, with each draw.

She glared at the half full bottle of vodka she salvaged from her previous house, opening it and downing the contents, sighing  
deeply once she had gulped down several mouthfuls and placed the bottle back among the clothes. She supposed she would end up  
having to humour Papyrus in one way or another, yet she hadn't packed pyjamas, not that she wore them. She fitted a small  
pink tank top, exposing her prominent collar bone, as well as her thin arms. along with a pair of small shorts. She felt a horrid  
sense of insecurity, gazing down to the pale blue veins so embellished on her malnourished body. She ran a hand through her hair,  
sighing and tugging at the ends of her hair, unable to shake the sense of dread in her head. She quickly and abruptly bounded for her  
comfort item, chugging down more mouthfuls of vodka, feeling her sense of dread melt away, as she walked into the living room.

"Finally, Frisk! Quick, the movie is coming on!" Papyrus almost shouted, beckoning her to the couch, "Yeah, kid, don't wanna  
miss it." Sans grinned playfully. Frisk slumped down in between the two. Almost instantly, Papyrus threw his blanket over her,  
as it covered the three of them. The movie playing dragged in, Frisk didn't really pay attention. The noise and colours met her eyes and  
ears, and soon passed by the two. She felt her mind moulding her reality into a warm, almost hazy passing illusion. She felt comfortable,  
but simultaneously restless. She could feel her eyelids drooping with exhaustion, not uncommon due to her continuing insomnia.  
She retreated to the comfort of the overwhelming urge to sleep.

It took all but two hours for her to come back to grips with reality. When she awoke, she had been moved. The room was in complete  
darkness, and she was alone, in the midst of a hot mess of blankets, a soft but worn mattress, and a few pillows. The moonlight shone  
dimly through the window, giving some vision to Frisk. The room was not filthy, but rather an organised mess. She made her way out of the  
room and out into the hallway, the corridor was dark, as was the rest of the apartment. Frisk sighed, she wasn't going to end up sleeping  
any time soon. Her movements were restricted to small, quiet footsteps. She didn't want to wake up the two, as she crept into the living room.  
She saw Sans laying on the couch, presumably sleeping, with the TV glare shining on him, just before she was about to leave he piped up,  
"Thought you were out cold, kiddo," he mused, smirking, she approached him silently, as he rose from the couch slightly adjusting himself  
before sitting back down, "C'mon, you're welcome to sit." She did so, crossing her legs shyly, having sobered up some from hours previous.  
"Well, what'd y'think? Sorry the room ain't so clean.. Didn't wanna make you sleep on the couch, wouldn't be very good hospitality on  
my part I guess." He grinned, with tired eyes. "You.. Don't have to sleep there. I don't mind..." She sighed, rubbing her eyes with her palms,  
"It's nice being here, with you and Papyrus.."

He smirked hearing her words, "Nice havin' you here too kiddo, nothin' like a pretty face to lighten up a home, I s'pose." He let out a soft  
laugh, resting his head against the couch, closing his eyes, though they soon opened to see Frisk's face slightly flushing, quite obvious  
against her pale skin, despite a hardened neutral expression. He found it funny to invoke slight expressions of embarrassment from Frisk,  
it was easier to do than anticipated. She let out a small squeak at the feeling of his touch on her leg, although when gazing down, to her  
realization, he was simply spreading the blanket over her skinny legs. He laughed, with intense eyes that glared deep into her,  
"Y'okay kid?" He mused, placing his hand atop hers, to further push this small game he had initiated, yet to this, she didn't budge.  
Inside, her face felt as though it was burning, melting at each and every teasing touch he made, squirming slightly.  
She yearned for more each time, not that she would admit it. Physical touch was a thing of the past to her, being so isolated, seen  
as unstable, troubled, a druggie, just another girl. Any intimacy, had been far in the distant past, quick-fixes, one night stands with  
strangers, simply to feel human.

She gripped the couch, feeling shivers send through her spine as he moved closer to her, "You okay?" He smirked, knowing well each and every  
button he was pushing. She slumped her body down, leaning onto him, almost submitting to what he had been seeking. Then, he pressed his  
lips to hers, she could feel his grin as she opened her mouth slightly, the deep but fading taste of vodka on her lips, intoxicating him ever the more,  
angling her body atop his, she gripped him, deepening their kiss. His hands wrapped around her thin waist as she pressed herself against him.  
She paused for breath, sitting upwards atop him, as he looked to her, eyes scanning her body up and down, lost for words as his bulge pressed  
against her. He teased at her, with his fingers pressing and stroking in between her thighs, tracing up and down, until he pressed two fingers  
against her pussy, teasing her even further, as she let out a soft moan in response.  
"You sure about this?" He confirmed, as she shyly nodded her head, his hand made its way into her shorts and slipped into her, he could hear her  
breath begin to deepen, much to his pleasure. Each and every thrust he made with simply his fingers, she seemed to fall deeper and deeper into  
a passionate frenzy, panting, her face a crimson red. Coming close to a climax he immediately retracted his hand.

She glared down questioningly, only to be met by the familiar smirk, "Maybe more later, kid.. I'm pretty tired." She threw herself onto the couch,  
sighing as he laughed. He gave her a small kiss, as he made his way to his room. Regaining her composure, she followed. "So, decided to  
bunk here, then?" Sans said playfully. "Least you could do," She spoke, throwing herself onto the bed beside him, proceeding to fall asleep.


End file.
